


"I brought you food"

by Aithilin



Series: Fresh Start [15]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 12:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12189651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Noctis is still recovering from his injury, and Nyx is getting impulsive.





	"I brought you food"

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted over at [my Tumblr](http://aithilin.tumblr.com).

There were good days and bad days, while they waited for Libertus to get back and Ignis to get comfortable in the kitchens. While they waited for the long gashes to heal and for the pain to abate. The good days were easy ones, where Noct was fine getting up and helping get the bar in working order again and the inventory taken. The good days when Nyx didn’t worry over whether stitches were coming loose or if the strain of the work was too much. The good days were when Noct was up early out of habit and regaining his usual range of motion. Early mornings where Nyx would grin and kiss his lover awake, where they’d tease each other until the chores couldn’t be put off again.

“I brought you food.”

Then there were bad days. Nyx was learning that they were usually brought on by the humidity of the islands when the cool ocean winds didn’t make it quite so far inland. The bad days were signalled by restless nights filled with familiar nightmares, and Noct reaching for a potion rather than an aspirin during a rough sleep. They were mornings where Noct could barely move and Nyx would check the bandages for fresh blood before he was satisfied that the marks left by the coeurl were actually healing as they should be. 

Mornings where he slipped out to the little kitchen of the apartment to fix coffee and toast, only to find that Ignis was halfway finished a familiar and full breakfast. 

“I could hear his restlessness,” Ignis would explain, eggs carefully plated; “Is he alright?”

Nyx would respond without thinking, used to the sight of his lover’s friend— his friend— cooking in the early hours; “It’s been rough.”

“I’ve included an elixir in the juice,” Nyx knew better than to question how Ignis was so comfortable with the apartment already, how he had found where everything was so easily. He knew better than to argue when things used more often than others were suddenly stored in new place within an easier reach. He knew better than to question Ignis’ ability to make himself at home; “Make sure he has all of it. It’ll help.”

Over the next few weeks, there would be deliveries to attend to— new appliances for the little cooking area downstairs. New cupboards and worktops, and the whole list of ingredients Ignis had handed over once a simple menu was sorted out. Over the next few weeks, Libertus would be needed home— if only for the heavy lifting— and the signs posted could be changed to mention the renovations. It was meant to be a pub, not a restaurant, and they had decided against the menu being more than a couple of starters for groups and mains. The drinks didn’t change, but Libertus had insisted on searching out a few proper wines to go along with their usual offerings— and a look at that new menu that seemed to need a whole new kitchen. 

Nyx was already considering inviting Prompto and Gladio in to help with the heavy lifting. 

But for now, he had a tray to deliver to Noctis.

Noctis, who should have still been sleeping. Who should not have been sitting up, combing fingers through his hair where the braids had come loose in his restless night. Who could barely move his injured shoulder enough to redo the little twists and replace the beads. 

“Thanks,” Noct muttered as Nyx set the tray down and gently helped Noct move forward. 

It was easy enough to settle in against the headboard, to hold Noctis in place as Nyx slipped himself into the open space. To pull the injured man back against his chest and start the work on fixing those familiar braids. To let his hands admire the length Noctis’ hair had reached, and how easy it was to twist and move and tug in a soft admonishment as his lover reached for the coffee.

“Start with the juice, pretty thing.”

He didn’t ask how Noct was feeling— he had spent the night next to him, trying to keep him from getting up, from disrupting even the chance of sleep by leaving the bed. He didn’t need to ask how he was, when the cup shook in his hand and Nyx knew that the elixir mixed in would only take the edge off of the worst of it. Or as Noct ignored the fork and went for the toast instead of the eggs, so the tremble in his hand was less noticeable. He started with the familiar braids he had taught Noct first, years ago, when he was still just a bratty little prince having nightmares. 

The same soft words always accompanied the braids. All the same promises and wishes and the muttered endearments. Nyx had dreamed of them for years, had smiled at Noct’s reflection as their eyes met when his pretty Lucian lover was reworking the beads and decorations himself some mornings. He had remembered the words muttered between them after nightmares and on lazy mornings between kisses, and the vows spoken aloud in their room above the bar through grins and around laughter. 

Now, he could feel the same promises, the same whispers and words and memories bubbling up to the surface with every little bead slipped into place. He could remember the way his little prince— bold easy Noct— used to carefully repeat his words until they were memorised, until they were second nature. Until they were promises that didn’t need to be reassured or reminded. And there was a young man carefully trying to learn something that was important to them both. 

“Marry me, little star.”

It slipped out, muttered against dark hair as Nyx closed his eyes against the sight of a trembling hand and his lover’s frustration. He smiled like that, feeling the way Noctis tensed against him, and nearly laughed at the elbow jerked back against his stomach. “You dick.”

“That a no?”

“You had to ask when I feel like shit?”

“What better time?” Nyx steadied the tray as Noct attempted to turn enough to glare at him. “Don’t hurt yourself, kitten.”

Another joint to his gut and he grinned, more so as Noct huffed out his exasperation and leaned back against him again. His hands moved back to finish off the little twists in the last of the braids— the little knot in the dark strip of ribbon oven through the important marking to hold it all in place— to slip a feather light touch over the dark line that followed Noct’s pulse. “Marry me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I feel like shit.”

“I didn’t mean now, you idiot.”

“Because I’m still a hunter,” Noct leaned back, let his head fall back against Nyx’s shoulder; “And I haven’t made a decision about that yet.”

“So when you do.”

“Then I’ll give you two answers.”

“Fair enough.” Nyx reached around Noct with one hand, taking the ignored fork to cut the eggs into a more manageable mess. With his other, he linked their finger together and ignored the way Noct seemed to hold on to him a bit tighter than normal. “You’ll get better.”

“I know.”

“The nightmares will go away.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.”

“Anything you don’t know, little star?”

“Whether Ignis and Libs can keep from killing each other over food. And,” Noct did turn a bit, enough to see Nyx— to judge his reaction, his answer, his honesty; “why did you even ask me to marry you now, of all times?”

“Because I brought you food. It was a romantic gesture.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too.”


End file.
